The Place With No Name

It was a place its inhabitants described only with outstretched arms and crescendoing hollers; a place with no words, no name. It existed in time and space, without need of description, explanation, or justification.

They had need of nothing.

They played together as children, frolicking in the winter grass and summer rains. Green leaves fluttered overhead, blessing the graceful dance of their bodies running, leaping; pulling and pushing; twirling and falling.

They matured like meadow rabbits: brown, full, and spirited.

His chest grew wide and muscular, and he liked to display his power: hands on his hips with his legs spread wide, dangling his plumage before her.

She laughed with pleasure at his insolence, and strutted away from him, swaying her round hips and buttocks and jutting her nipples proudly in front of her breasts.

He chased her then, and she threw up her hands and squealed, running with all her might. Cleverly, she darted sideways into a cave hidden in the bushes.

She crouched, panting heavily, and listened with wide black eyes to ascertain his bearing.

But there was no sound, and she wondered where he had gone.

Her breathing slowed, and she listened intently to the silence. Suddenly, he pounced from behind!

She screamed, and he covered her mouth with his brown hand.

She bit it.

He growled and caught her ribcage with his arms, devouring her neck and shoulders.

She turned around and hugged him forcefully, kissing his face with her mouth and grinding her body against his in the dark cave.

They probed and pried with insistent fingers, discovering every secret crevice; and ended joined at the hip, sweaty and panting and lubricious.

He took her hand and led her to his Old One.

They bowed to the ground on their knees before him, and stood.

His woman stepped up, and gave a nod with her round dark-haired head, which held an equally round, smiling, puffy-cheeked face.

The Old One reached out his hand to hers and bowed from the waist.

When the fiery orb above them touched the distant earth, blowing its colors into the sky with the breath of the wind, the celebration for them included all the members which had come from the Old One, and the One before him, and their mates and small ones.

They clapped and galloped, hummed and nodded, laughed and hooted.

The Old One offered succulent fruits to the couple, who shared them with juice running carelessly down their chins.

Then he took her hand and led her to the quiet hut, where the Old One stood with silent and graceful authority, guarding the entrance.

At her plaintive and transcendent cries, the Old One entered the hut and his progeny took the place at the door.

With masterful skill, the Old One manipulated her to sweet release and entered her, thrusting deep to plant the seeds of many generations.

Then the progeny returned, taking her tenderly in his arms again, and the guard returned to his place of honor.

A third time, she crossed over with her head spinning; and her lover sealed the marriage with the deepest, most intense union of the night.

They collapsed into one another's arms and breathed heavily into slumber, while the thick nectar of love mingled through their tangled legs.

The guard stood watch all night long.

Then she knew she belonged to him, to his Old One, and to all the ones who had come to celebrate. And she felt happy, and loved, and part of something bigger than herself. And she promised within herself that she would bear him many small ones.

So he came to her often, and she squealed and panted her promise to him, losing herself in his powerful trance.

And he ran many miles each day, and stalked their sustenance, and kissed her when he laid it at her feet.

And she picked the round, red bulbs that grew on the bushes, and ate them for fertility; and made wine of them, which she poured into his mouth before taking his shaft in her hand.

And he laughed at her, and growled his pleasure at her protruding nipples and dark curly pubic bone, where he found his home often.

And they had many small ones, which she bore, round-bellied and determined. And she suckled them on one side, with him on the other, taking the rich milk from her fountain and filling her groin with the sweet sensation of his fingers.

The small ones grew and found their own playmates, and she watched him stand guard all the dark night long many times at the quiet hut. And some of the little ones they produced she took to her own sagging breasts.

She died in his arms, knowing he loved her, and his tears made rivers down her wrinkled face as they washed through the grime of many moons.